Chapter Text
A chilling shrill pierced the air.
The metal creaked as cracks snapped across the blade.
The obsidian shards clattered to the ground.
And after that, there was only darkness.
“Shifu, look!” the young prince’s cheerful voice rang out from several steps ahead, over the bustling buzz of the capital’s streets.
A wistful but genuine smile tugged at Xie Lian's lips. The future King of Yong’An, despite being considered of age by now, was still all but a child. And it was something Xie Lian hoped Lang Qianqiu would be afforded to enjoy for a while—their lessons were strict as they were, and the responsibilities before the court and the nation were inevitable, whether His Highness sat prim and proper all day or indulged himself in the occasional dilly-dallying.
The mischievous years of childhood are fleeting, and this is exactly why one must live them to their fullest. Getting to know the people whose prosperity he would be responsible for was an important part of the prince’s education too.
To stand strong till the very end should a calamity ever threaten their existence—and to be kind to them if their faith crumbled under the pressure of hardships.
Squinting at the crimson rays of the autumnal sunset, Xie Lian glanced at his promising student—the rising star of the kingdom. At the moment, the youth was engrossed in some new-fashioned street show. The performer was dancing on a horizontally suspended pole, all the while singing and balancing a stack of plates on the tip of his nose.
The trade is truly competitive these days, Xie Lian mused, taking notes, despite the fact that the position of State Preceptor sustained him well enough to absolve him from the need to follow the busking trends.
…He had learned the hard way that no seat is unshakable, no matter how sturdy-looking or warm.
The market streets seemed to be trying even harder to display their full glory during the last hours of the busy day. The wares appeared more tantalising, the sellers more creative as they advertised their stock, and the buyers haggled with more vigour. Coins jingled in the purses and hit the stalls with more pretence, and robes fluttered in the cool breeze like banners of successful deals—all this accompanied by the erratic trills of musical instruments, gleeful laughter, and desultory arguing.
It was loud and lovely, exciting yet overwhelming. Still, each time Xie Lian’s gaze swept over these streets brimming with vitality, he couldn't help but feel the dowel of guilt driving itself into his heart with hateful brutality. All this life had once nearly perished at the hands that were now guiding the prince to be a fair and protective ruler—at the hands of Xianle’s greatest disgrace, Xie Lian himself.
“Shifu!”
Xie Lian's reverie was shattered by the sudden call, and when he snapped his head up, he found the young prince standing right in front of him.
“Have you had your fill of entertainment?” Xie Lian asked sternly but not unkindly, mustering his expression back to scholarly neutrality, even though most of it was hidden behind his mask.
He hoped Lang Qianqiu hadn't noticed the rigid, thin line of his lips or the flex of his jaw that always appeared on his face when the ghosts of his past swarmed his mind. Mostly because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to conjure up a convincing lie should the Crown Prince pry; the young highness was remarkably sharp in his observations at times.
While the ability to read people was nothing to scorn—this skill was a necessity for the future King with his hundreds of honest and not-so-honest subordinates—Xie Lian, belonging to the second group, had to be extra careful. On top of that, the prince’s immature and candid nature often found a way to strut over all the etiquette lessons, which then resulted in uncomfortable questions. It would have been no big deal if they didn't hurt as much sometimes…
So far, Xie Lian had managed to eel his way out, but he wondered how many times he could nitpick about the prince’s improper conduct, posture, or askew collar in such situations until his elusive tactics got busted. Inadvertently, the notion made him reminisce about his own old Guoshi’s denial regarding his gambling addiction.
Ah, perhaps I was caught ages ago, Xie Lian huffed inwardly, the silver mask fortunately in place to hide the amused crescents his eyes had narrowed into.
“This prince apologises, Shifu,” Lang Qianqiu muttered, wearing an expression only a beloved-by-all young lord could pull off—the one that screamed he wasn't even a tiny bit remorseful but was aware that no person with a heart could truly be mad at him.
“Well, in this case, shall we get going, or would Your Highness rather play some more and leave the investigation to me?” Xie Lian asked languidly, with a sly lilt in his tone.
Like a cub mimicking a tiger, Lang Qianqiu straightened, preening and resembling a diligent disciple. His voice was full of determination when he replied, “No, Shifu! Let's proceed with our mission!”
Indeed, the reason for their outing wasn’t mere shopping or idle chatter with the common folk, although some conversations did take place, all for the sake of getting more information about a certain rumour circulating in the capital.
Several city guards had reported overhearing an interesting chat among the merchants. It went as follows.
A peculiar pair of travellers—a man and a child—had appeared out of nowhere, selling blades and trinkets. This would be nothing unusual, but they were simply too unsettling to look at: the child was nothing but sweet and cheerful yet knew how to perform wicked magic tricks, whereas the man didn’t speak at all—grim and mysterious, his body cloaked and his face masked.
Suspecting the entities could be a puppet master—a devious creature that was quite cumbersome to deal with—Xie Lian had volunteered to investigate before it got to do something evil, causing damage no gods could revert. Lang Qianqiu, claiming that he was almost seventeen now and ready to combat the malicious ghosts to protect his people, had naturally pestered his Shifu relentlessly until the latter agreed to bring him along.
This was how they ended up here, attempting to collect more definitive information or at least further rumours about the potential location of the shady individuals. While they hadn’t learned anything new about the suspects’ appearances or skills, some beggars had recounted that the duo had passed by the temple devoted to the Heavenly Emperor.
They remembered this very clearly since the purse the child was carrying was heavy with gold, yet they refused to enter and offer incense. Instead, the kid had purchased some steamed buns at the nearest stall and shared them with the stunned vagrants. And after that, the two had promptly left, exiting the city through the eastern gate.
Calling such behaviour strange would be a great understatement. The ghost not praying to the gods was as self-explanatory as its feeding the beggars was abnormal. And if it wasn’t a ghost at all, then why would the apparently thriving merchants leave the city every day and not stay at the inn unless they were up to no good? Besides, beyond the eastern gate lay a forest—a perfect place for the undead to set up a hideout.
So, with all this information in mind, the teacher and his royal student headed to the woods, treading carefully and trying to make as little noise as possible.
Upon entering the forest grounds, Xie Lian instantly sensed that something was amiss, and Lang Qianqiu must have as well. When they crossed the eastern gate, the skies had still been alight with the scarlet kiss of the setting sun. Yet now, the unnatural darkness coated their surroundings with a thick veil of resentful miasma. Exchanging nods, they proceeded regardless, their hands circling around the hilts of their swords, their footwork light and cautious.
No birds fluttered their wings above their heads, and no bugs whirred around. Only the gnarled arms of oaks and elms twisted and swayed, as though cracking their stiff joints. And the thick foliage the sinister trees still carried, along with the soft carpet of dry leaves on the ground, whispered eerily, as if warning the intruders of the danger ahead or notifying whatever lurked in the depths of this undoubtedly haunted territory that some juicy prey had waltzed straight onto its plate.
A lone puppet master couldn’t have caused all this, altering the very essence of the forest, could it? If they were dealing with an entire gang of ghosts, they should probably head back before they got spotted. Not because Xie Lian couldn’t deal with them. He simply wasn’t certain Lang Qianqiu could keep up, and protecting someone else during the fight would only complicate things.
The fact that Xie Lian’s head would fly off his shoulders even if they were successful, but the prince lost a hair too many, was another solid argument for a preemptive retreat. Putting the heir to the throne in danger so carelessly was no trivial issue—or, if one were to drop the sugar-coating, treason.
Fleeing without gathering any information would be foolish, however. Especially now that it seemed like the ghosts dwelling here had been angered or excited, judging by the spike in their resentment. Xie Lian couldn’t be certain there hadn’t already been victims, so he couldn't afford to be overly cautious, wasting time to bring in reinforcements.
“If I ever give you a signal, turn around and run for it, understood?” Xie Lian hissed, his lips barely moving, shooting a pointed, fierce look at the prince—enough to convey that, in case the boy didn’t heed his orders, this teacher would personally kick him with enough force to catapult him back to the palace premises.
Lang Qianqiu, pale in the face but still steady on his feet, gulped and nodded, puffing out shallow breaths that condensed into mist before his lips. An hour ago, when they were still at the market, he had complained about the heat, but now, they were crossing an area where no laws of nature applied. All things considered, the prince was actually doing very well. Not even some of the more seasoned cultivators would have been able to walk here without fainting at least once or bursting into a fit of wheezing coughs, suffocating on the resentment poisoning the air.
Xie Lian kept this praising notice to himself lest he give Lang Qianqiu too big a confidence boost, accidentally prompting the youth to act reckless.
Later, he chided himself, suppressing the surge of pride swelling in his chest.
Following the viscid pull of miasma, they reached a clearing, and Xie Lian caught Lang Qianqiu’s sleeve to prevent him from stepping out of the shadows. On the opposite side, the forgotten god had spotted a jagged opening leading to what could possibly be an underground cave, and a child, no older than ten, sitting at the entrance, playing with… two human arms?
Xie Lian didn’t voice his command, giving it only mentally, but his trusted silk-demon shot out of his sleeve in an instant, effortlessly wrapping its prey into a tight cocoon. The ‘child’ tried to shriek, but its mouth was stuffed by the living fabric as soon as the high-pitched squeak left its throat. Seemingly not strong enough to resist Ruoye, the being writhed angrily, yet its excessive movements only caused it to topple to the ground with a dull thud.
Crouching behind a tree, the State Preceptor and the prince waited for a prolonged moment to see whether the apprehended creature was only feigning weakness and would free itself—or if anything would come to aid it. When neither happened for about an incense time, Xie Lian strode forward, gesturing for Lang Qianqiu to keep his distance. The youth looked disgruntled yet abode, still in awe of the incredible spiritual tool his Shifu was wielding.
As he approached the ‘child’, Xie Lian minutely eyed the small figure quivering in Ruoye’s steadfast grip. It was small and rather frail, but it looked incredibly human: eyes large and glossy with tears, proudly puffed-up cheeks blotched with red, its skin soft and healthy. Begrudgingly, Xie Lian could only describe the little fellow as cute!
Lang Qianqiu must have gotten a similar impression.
“Guoshi, perhaps the townsfolk got the wrong idea? This kid is adorable! How could it be a ghost?” he asked, reaching out to run his fingers through the ‘child’s’ silky ponytail.
Blowing out a sharp, piqued breath through his nostrils, Xie Lian replied, his voice carrying the cadence of a strict teacher giving a lecture. Because that was what he was and what he did.
“Perhaps it’s not the ghost itself, but one of its creations,” Xie Lian preached. “Did I not tell you how a puppet master creates its companions? The ponytail you’re petting might have been cut off someone’s mangled corpse.”
As though burnt, Lang Qianqiu retracted his hand, his complexion taking on a greenish tint.
In the meantime, wiggling its loose end like a happy puppy would its tail, the silk band released one of the ‘child’s’ wrists on Xie Lian’s command, and the banished god inspected the being’s meridians. The idea of the thing being cute died very quickly when the pale forearm it had been playing with was revealed by Ruoye as well.
“So?” the Crown Prince of Yong’An asked, wiping his hand with a handkerchief.
“It’s…” Xie Lian frowned, trailing off.
It was strange.
Warm and brimming with Yang energy, this couldn’t be a ghost, and the ghostly essence surrounding it was most likely just residue from the thick air in the forest. However, it couldn’t be an ordinary human either—the being’s meridians were shimmering with divine qi. How could this be? Had the puppet been created using both human and god’s body parts?
“Outrageous!” Xie Lian cursed, abruptly rising to his feet, making both the puppet and Lang Qianqiu flinch.
“Mhm!” the puppet howled, tears finally streaming down its face.
“You want to speak?” Xie Lian asked coldly, arching an eyebrow.
The puppet nodded as much as it could, its body shaking with sobs despite Ruoye’s tight hold.
“Sure,” Xie Lian drawled. “Ruoye!”
At that, the wretched thing’s mouth was released. Gasping and weeping, it immediately began to shout and beg for mercy.
“My Looooords! I’m not a ghost! Ngh! And I’m not a puppet! Sniffle! I’m a human! I’m just a boooooy!” it cried, finishing its confession with an indignant hic.
“Exactly what a ghost or a puppet would say!” Lang Qianqiu butted in, likely still offended that the thing’s deceiving looks had made him touch something so gruesome.
“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” the being shrieked, the child’s wailing reminding Xie Lian of something or someone…
This wasn’t a good time to reminisce about the past, though.
“How can you explain the human arms you’re playing with, then? Not a very fitting toy for ‘just a boy’, don’t you think?” Xie Lian inquired, casting a glare at the body squirming at his feet.
“These are not real!” the puppet argued. “These are my no-name gege’s! I’m looking after them while he is purging the evil that has taken over our cave!”
Out of curiosity, Xie Lian let Ruoye take out one of the unconventional toys. Indeed, the forearm was just a prosthetic, although of incredibly high quality. One could confuse it with a real limb even up close, let alone from afar. Yet, it was hollow—no meat or organs stuffed inside—and the shell itself was made out of porcelain or clay, certainly not human skin. This wasn’t how puppet masters usually constructed their wares, but the situation was still as suspicious as it could be. If anything, it was only more confusing now.
“Shifu, do you think the ‘gege’ this thing is blabbering about is the actual puppet master?” Lang Qianqiu asked, still not completely recovered but visibly less stressed after seeing that the arms were fake.
“This is possible…” Xie Lian muttered, yet his voice was drowned out by the sudden gut-wrenching cry resonating from inside the cave.
“Perhaps some people wandered into their lair and are now being slaughtered!” Lang Qianqiu exclaimed, his voice shaking.
“Look after this thing! If it tries to get itself out of Ruoye, slice its head off immediately and place these on top!” Xie Lian ordered, willing Ruoye to gag the creature once again and producing several talismans from his sleeve.
After seeing how the human-shaped bundle stopped moving upon hearing his words and Lang Qianqiu’s devoted “Yes, Shifu,” Xie Lian felt relief wash over him. Without any further sentiment, he twirled on his heels and rushed inside the cave.
Drawing his sword, he dashed through the narrow passage. Zeroed in on his purpose, he barely registered the moldy, pungent stench the cave exuded, the way his light boots were instantly soaked through with something sticky and thick, or even the charged, resentful aura squashing his lungs.
He only noticed all that when suddenly, the unpleasant sensations were gone. The miasma was snuffed out like a mere candle, and a mouthful of fresh air entered his chest like a punch. The screams stopped too, and as Xie Lian entered the spacious hall at the end of the passageway, all he could see were countless bodies sprawled around in a macabre display of carnage, the armor of the royal guard reflecting in the puddles of blood, and a lone figure standing in the middle.
Tall and poised, it was mostly covered by a cloak, only two silver blades peeking out from the tattered sleeves. With a precise swish, their master slashed through the air to shake off the gore dripping from the swords, a wet sound of blood splashing across the stone signifying the ghost’s decisive victory.
Suppressing an angered snarl, Xie Lian used his advantage of being unseen and lunged forward, ready to strike. At the last second, the figure turned around, and Xie Lian’s sword had surprisingly been parried. Yet after that, there was no resistance or retaliation. Possibly injured, the monster lost its footing and tumbled to the floor, allowing Xie Lian to pin it down with the weight of his body.
Almost disappointed by the duel being over so soon—not many could so easily deflect his powerful overhead chop—Xie Lian wasn’t going to release his opponent anyway, prepared to land the final blow.
But then…
Pale moonlight seeped through the narrow hole in the cavern’s ceiling, reflecting on the tip of Xie Lian’s blade and the mask it was directed at. The crude, smiling mask…
“W-what… Wu Ming?” Xie Lian stammered, unsure whether he was supposed to believe what he saw or whether he was outright being mocked.
